Rebuilding Nobility: The House of Potter
by ThrashtillDeath
Summary: In the Summer following his second year, the escape of the dangerous Sirius Black, combined a very unexpected visitor to Harry's room in Privet Drive set off a chain of events that may reshape the wizarding world as we know it. Discovering the Potter family's glorious past and downfall, Harry Potter sets out to rebuild his family name to it's past glories and build higher still...
1. Godfathers and House Elves

**Yep, Another one. Assaulted by plot bunnies. All the time. I'm supposed to be working, too. Fat bloody chance, eh? This story begins in the summer prior to Harry's third year, on the eve of the arrival of Harry's Aunt Marge. I do hope that y'all enjoy.**

* * *

_Chapter One  
_

_Godfathers and House Elves_

* * *

"You are worried about Mr. Potter then, Albus?"

Dumbledore regarded the words of his deputy carefully, as she stood, rather than sat opposite him in his office. It was not a question. He hadn't left the confines of his office and living quarters for several days while he deliberated the question of how to keep Harry Potter safe.

"Indeed. The escape of Sirius Black puts him in grave danger once he leaves the safety of Privet Drive."

"I daresay he has more to fear from those already-"

"Enough, Minerva!" He spoke rather more angrily than he'd have liked, to someone who was one of his oldest and most trusted friends; but this was an old, and tiring argument, and ground they had covered many times over the last 12 years. "You know why he has to be there. Either way they are the only family he's got."

McGonagall's nostrils flared dangerously, and her mouth set itself in a fierce scowl, but she argued the matter no further. Harry Potter's treatment at the hands of his relatives was a common point of debate amongst them. The only thing they knew for certain was that they weren't particularly kid to the boy. There was definitely some degree of neglect there, and Minerva was certain they were rather more vicious to him than many wanted to believe. But there was no proof, no cause to force an investigation, and Harry himself was notoriously tight lipped, even to his friends.

Dumbledore refused to contemplate the possibility that the people he had left Harry to were more than slightly neglectful of the boy. Either way, the escape of Sirius Black, the notorious mass murderer, from Azkaban posed a slightly more immediate problem. Mainly, because as one of Lord Voldemort's closest followers, Black's likeliest target, was Harry himself.

"I do not know how to prevent Harry from seeking a confrontation, Minerva. How does one stop a boy like Harry from attempting to find the man who betrayed his parents? I feel certain he will find out, he is much to intelligent for a secret like that to be kept from him for too long, and far too resourceful for us to restrain him into the castle."

"Perhaps Headmaster, it is time you begun treating him as the intelligent and resourceful young wizard you see, rather than the small boy who's future you seem determined to shape?"

Dumbledore sighed. Minerva was cutting far too close to the bone tonight, whilst not actually being wrong. Harry, whilst only being twelve, was already an extraordinary young wizard. He had faced down Voldemort twice, and slain a basilisk, in only his two years at Hogwarts. These were ordeals that would traumatize many older, more powerful, and more experienced wizards; yet, Harry took each in his stride, growing neither afraid, nor big headed as his accomplishments began to stack.

He was far more mature than any his age had any right to be, yet Albus was determined to treat him as a child. It made no sense, particularly regarding a boy who had a target on his back painted by Lord Voldemort himself.

"He is just a child. Twelve years of age, Minerva"

"I suspect Harry Potter hasn't been 'just a child' in a very long time, Headmaster. If the Dursleys haven't already squeezed the childhood out of him, I suspect it ended somewhere between one of his Professors trying to kill him at eleven years old, and having to slay a basilisk to save the life of an eleven year old girl, when none of the adults around him seemed capable."

Minerva paused slightly, acknowledging in her mind that at least partially, she was responsible for it falling to Harry to deal with both of those incidents.

"I'm not saying you should reveal every dark and sordid piece of information about the war, and the evil magic You-Know-Who used; but he at least deserves an explanation about Sirius Black, Albus. The way I see it, there are two very clear choices. First, we tell him nothing, and allow him to find out himself. He then has no-one to alleviate his concerns, and answer his questions, and no one to dissuade him from trying to find Black. Alternatively, he gets a fair and honest explanation, all the facts from the right people, and someone is on hand to deal with the anger and hurt he has every right to feel. And possibly more importantly, convince him that he must not go after Sirius Black."

Dumbledore rather hated it when his Deputy was right. It shouldn't have even been a hard decision. But Albus was hesitant to put any further burdens on Harry's shoulders. His home life in combination with being the Boy Who Lived was rather enough, as far as he was concerned, regardless of how admirably he bore them. Yet, Minerva was correct. This was a burden that he would have to bear whether Dumbledore like it or not, and if Harry were to find out from anyone other than himself, it would be a betrayal of what trust the pair had built up in the two years Harry had spent at Hogwarts.

"Very well, Minerva. I will pay the boy a visit and we shall talk. You are perfectly correct, he has a right to know, and will likely find out either way. It is best he hears it from me – it's the least I can do."

* * *

Harry Potter forced back a sigh at the news of the imminent arrival of 'Aunt' Marge. The woman was even less his family than he felt the Dursleys were, and that was saying something. She was, essentially, his Uncle Vernon in drag. Rude, vicious, uncaring, and so overweight that the her chin seemed to dwarf and smother what little neck she had. And, where Uncle Vernon had Dudley, Aunt Marge had _Ripper_, the evil dog that she seemed to take with her everywhere she went, and who seemed to have taken a liking to the taste of Harry.

Still, Vernon hadn't interpreted his lack of a response at Marge's visit as attitude, and he had made it back to his room without any serious drama, which Harry supposed, was about as close to mission accomplished as he could hope for. He'd even managed to get Vernon to agree to sign his Hogsmeade permission slip if he behaved himself, which was a small miracle in and of itself. Still, with Hedwig gone until Marge had left, and the few school books he had managed to smuggle out of the locked cupboard where they were usually kept (he really needed to remember to thank the Weasley twins for teaching him to pick locks), he now felt incredibly alone, and isolated from the wizarding world - a world that was now more his home than Privet Drive or the muggle world ever had been.

His heart sank even further when he heard the sharp rap on the door of No. 4 Privet Drive, signifying the arrival of his Aunt Marge.

"Hello, Mrs. Dursley. I am here to speak with Harry, if I may?"

Harry's breath caught. There were very few voices he would have been able to recognise better, and he couldn't help breaking into a smile as he hear a distinct thud - signifying that the Dursleys had tried, and failed, to slam the door in the visitors face.

"I'll just be heading straight up then?"

"Now you wait just a minute! You can't just wal-" His Uncle's outraged cries were peculiarly silenced midway, and Harry found himself hoping that the visitor had just hexed the man.

"Ah, Harry! It is good to see you, my dear boy. I hope you don't mind an old man intruding on you, it's just, I was rather hoping we could have a quick chat."

Harry's grin grew even wider as the ever peculiar figure that belonged the Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts appeared in his door.

"Of course, sir. I don't mind at all."

"Excellent!" The Headmaster beamed momentarily, before his expression changed, and became rather more serious. "I'm afraid, Harry, that you may want to take a seat. What I have come here to tell you is not exactly pleasant."

Harry of course, did as he was instructed, and Dumbledore launched into the tale of James Potter and Sirius Black. A tale of how the two had been inseparable best friends throughout their years at Hogwarts and then beyond, about how Black had been named Harry's godfather, and had been best man at his parent's wedding. And then, about how he had been made the secret keeper as part of a complex piece of magic called a Fidelius Charm. It meant that, as long as Black told no one of the secret; not a soul would be able to find the location of the Potters as they hid from Voldemort.

And then it became a tale of how Sirius Black had betrayed his parents to Voldemort, leading to their deaths. About how Black had then been confronted with another of his parents friends, Peter Pettigrew, and blown him and thirteen others to bits with only a single spell. Black had spent the next twelve years rotting in a cell in Azkaban, but had escaped this summer, and now, Dumbledore theorized, may desire to come after Harry.

"So what am I supposed to do?" Harry demanded, a peculiar mix of angry at Black, scared of what the man could do, and excited all at the same time.

"There is nothing you can do, Harry. There is powerful protective magic on this house, and as long as you don't leave it, Black can not reach you. Once it is time to go to Hogwarts, you will be protected there also. Black is not someone you can fight at the moment, Harry. You cannot go looking for him."

"I know that!" Harry half snapped back. "But Hogwarts hasn't exactly always been safe, has it sir?" Harry asked, forcing himself to calm down. "I have no intention of going after a man who I reckon could kill me without breaking a sweat. But, no offense sir, you can't guarantee that he won't be able to get to me at Hogwarts any more than you could have guaranteed that he couldn't escape from Azkaban."

Harry took a deep breath as Dumbledore regarded him curiously over his spectacles. "I- At the very least, I want to learn how to defend myself as best as I can. Anything I could learn might make the difference between- Well, it just might make a difference."

Dumbledore paused, and had to remind himself that the nearly thirteen year old boy in front of him, had never really acted his age. His eyes held a quiet determination that he wasn't sure he had ever seen in one his age, and he was for a moment, taken aback. They were the eyes of someone ready and willing to fight to survive, the eyes of a man much older than Harry Potter. And suddenly, Dumbledore realised that these were the eyes that had confronted a Basilisk alone in the Chamber of Secrets, the eyes that had stared down the soul of Tom Riddle in the very same place, and the eyes that had come face to face with the disembodied spirit of Lord Voldemort at eleven years of age - and survived.

He had come to realise very quickly two years ago, that Harry Potter was no ordinary child, but it had never confronted him so brazenly before. He had felt previously that Harry had potential, that he could be trusted to do what was right, that he would eventually fight against Voldemort alongside him. But, for the first time, it was spelled out for him in clear black and white by the fire in the eyes he inherited from his mother.

Harry Potter was special. And it was about time somebody acknowledged it.

"I believe that would be an incredibly wise course of action, Harry." Dumbledore paused, his mind alive with various plans and paths open to him now he had made a decision regarding Harry Potter. "I have an idea, that I will need some time to put into place. I believe you have the Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook from your first year?" At Harry's nod he smiled. "Good. I would ask that while you wait for word from me that you read through it in search of spells and information you believe would be useful in a duel - your Charms book may also provide you with some useful knowledge also. There is very little else you can do, besides remaining safe, until I put my idea into motion. I trust that this is acceptable to you?"

Harry nodded again, knowing that Dumbledore had very intentionally not actually revealed his plan to Harry and that it would be a waste of time to ask. It didn't matter anyway, as Harry's mind was already alive with the various spells, minor jinxes and curses that he had learnt over his first two years at Hogwarts.

"Very good. I shall see myself out, and request that the Dursleys leave you be to study for the rest of the Holiday. I may need to let them know that I shall be back to ensure they have done as I requested of course, but I see of no reason that they should bother you besides for meal times."

"Thank you, sir. I really appreciate this - I know that teaching a student defensive magic ahead of time isn't something that you would do lightly..."

"Nonsense my boy. It is unfortunately, fairly necessary. And whilst it does require me to trust that you will behave responsibly with the knowledge you gain, I daresay you have earned that trust several times over during your two years at Hogwarts. Now," Dumbledore said, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he looked at Harry. "I believe it is time for another charming conversation with your Aunt and Uncle!"

And with that, Dumbledore left, leaving Harry to his own thoughts of defensive magic, the extraordinary trust being shown in him, and Sirius Black.

* * *

Alas, it was just like the Dursleys to try and spoil the admittedly very good mood Harry was in; although this time, he would have to admit, they really hadn't done a particularly good job of it.

"Want to study, do you?" Vernon had snarled, spit flying from his mouth as he spoke. "Well fine! It's not as if you can get up to any funny business without being expelled any way!" And with that, his Uncle had hurled his trunk and belongings into his room, scattering his books and robes everywhere, before stalking out and slamming the door behind him.

"Although," he said, through the cat flap that was attached to his door, his voice now sickeningly calm. "I wonder how easy it can be to study on an _empty stomach_." And with that, the cat flap closed, and his door was locked and bolted from the outside, so there was no chance of him picking the lock.

Harry was surprisingly calm. Firstly, he knew that Dumbledore would eventually return to talk, as he said that he would. He also knew that the Dursleys would never risk actually starving him to death. That however, was not very much comfort, as on the other hand, they were perfectly willing to see how close to that line they could get without actually crossing it.

And sure enough, three days later, the only thing to pass through the cat flap had been two glasses of water each day, and Harry was crippled with hunger. He could no longer focus on his books, and had been forced to resort to sleeping as much as he could to conserve his strength. He was no stranger to the attempts to starve him, but Hogwarts had turned him soft. He was fed incredibly well at school, and now he was back to being starved, he was not used to it, and was suffering far more after just three days than he would normally be.

The only thing he was truly grateful for, was that he had sent Hedwig away in preparation for Marge's arrival, meaning that she wasn't suffering alongside him. On second thought, he was also grateful that he didn't have to put up with Marge, who he knew was staying in the house. Small mercies, eh?

As the minutes turned into hours, and Harry tried unsuccessfully to stave off hunger pains and sleep, he found his mind wandering in the strangest directions. Odd, imagined duels with Lucius Malfoy, visions of himself running from a shaggy, black dog; and an odd image of Dobby, the peculiar house elf he had freed from servitude under the Malfoy family at the end of his previous year at Hogwarts. In the same year, he had learnt that at Hogwarts, it was the house elves who did all of the cooking for the school, and had the uncanny ability to procure food whenever it was required.

"Merlin, I wish Dobby were here now." He groaned, well aware that Dobby was now free, and was likely making the most of it. Good for hi-

CRACK!

"The great Harry Potter called Dobby?"

And just like that, Harry found himself staring into the wide, yellow eyes of Dobby the house elf.

"How on earth did you get here, Dobby?" Harry asked, his hunger momentarily forgotten under the shock of the elf's sudden arrival at Privet Drive.

"You called Dobby, Harry Potter sir." The elf replied, as if that explained everything.

"I said your name, yeah, but I didn't realise you were going to show up there and then." Harry stated, still utterly confused. Dobby however, looked mortified.

"Dobby did bad?" He wailed, his eyes roaming the room to look for a way to punish himself. "Dobby is ever so sorry, Harry Potter sir. Dobby didn't mean t-"

"No, Dobby!" Harry interjected, desperate to lower the noise level and prevent Dobby from punishing himself as he had done last year. "I'm just confused. I want to know how you know I said your name." That gave Dobby pause for thought, and suddenly, Dobby looked incredibly nervous.

"Harry Potter sir mustn't be mad, sir. But Dobby is wanting to help the great Harry Potter any way he could, sir."

"That doesn't explain how you heard me say your name." Harry said, Dobby's words having made him incredibly nervous.

"House elf magic, sir." The elf answered simply.

"So you can hear whenever somebody says your name? Or is there more to it than that?"

"There is, Harry Potter sir." The elf started, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. "House elves can only answer their master's call, sir." The house elf mumbled nervously, before finishing, "And Harry Potter is Dobby's master, Harry Potter sir."

Harry, not for the first time this evening was stunned. Harry had freed Dobby, and hadn't seen him since, how exactly was this possible?

"Dobby, what exactly do you mean I am your master? I freed you - you shouldn't have to have a master, Dobby."

"Harry Potter sir is not understanding House Elves. Dobby is ever so grateful that Harry Potter is freeing him from his old masters, they were not nice to Dobby. But House Elves do not like to live without a master! It is a horrible thing for a house elf, so Dobby looked for a new master. But there are many bad wizarding families like Dobby's old family, and Dobby did not know where to look... But Dobby had already decided that he wanted to help Harry Potter, sir, so Dobby found him, and Dobby bonded himself to him."

It took Harry a few moments to unravel Dobby's speech, but when he did, he honestly didn't know how to react. Bonded to him?

"So you didn't want to be free, Dobby? And what do you mean by bonded?"

"House elves cannot be without a master, Harry Potter sir. It hurts us, causes us to lose our magic, sir. Dobby did not like his old masters, but he was still needing to find a new master, so Dobby decided it would be Harry Potter sir, because Harry Potter is the greatest wizard Dobby is knowing of."

"And what did you mean by being bonded to me?" Harry repeated, determined to get all the facts before attempting to process them.

"Dobby is very sorry for not telling Harry Potter before sir, Dobby hopes Harry Potter will forgive him, but Dobby is really wanting to be Harry Potter's elf! And to do that, Dobby must bond to Harry Potter!" Dobby had escalated into loud wails once again, and Harry was forced to try and calm him down.

"Dobby, it's fine! There's nothing to forgive - I just need to know what it means, and what the bond does!"

"The bond is house elf magic, sir." Dobby started, almost instantly calm at Harry's words. "It joins me to Harry Potter's magic, and makes it so I can hear him call my name, sir. It also makes it so I have to do as he asks, and joins me to his family."

"Joins you to my family?"

"Oh yes, Harry Potter sir. If you is getting married, your wife and children is also being my master's." Dobby answered, particularly gleeful at the idea of children. "It also means that I will be able to stay in your family for many generations as your house elf!"

"And what effect does this have on my magic?"

"There is no effect, Harry Potter sir." Dobby replied, earnestly, seemingly rather happy that Harry had not already sent him on his way in anger at what Dobby had done.

"And you are sure this is what you want?" Harry asked, finally. In all honesty, the idea of having his own house elf was growing on him considerably as the conversation went on; and the fact that Dobby seemed to be incredibly eager was just encouraging him even more. "And what about feeding you, and a place for you to live?"

"Yes Harry Potter sir! Dobby is wanting to be your house elf very much! And House elves can be feeding themselves Harry Potter sir, and Dobby is only wanting a small space to be living in sir. Dobby is knowing this is a muggle house that has no quarters for house elves." Dobby stated, all the while looking round the room carefully. "In there is being perfect, Harry Potter sir! Dobby would very much like it in there!" Dobby said finally, pointing enthusiastically to Harry's small wardrobe, that actually, had no clothes in it at all.

In the end, Harry was finding it very difficult to say no to Dobby, the fact that he technically was already Dobby's master neatly forgotten; and eventually, Harry agreed, on the condition that Dobby obeyed three vital rules.

"Firstly Dobby, you are forbidden from punishing yourself. This rule is non-negotiable, Dobby. Secondly, if you don't like, or don't want to do anything I ask you to do, you have to tell me. Finally, whilst we're here, the muggles that live here can't know that you are in this house. That means we need to be as quiet as possible, and you must hide if they come in this room - they can't see you. Do you understand these rules Dobby?"

"Yes Harry Potter, sir. Dobby will do everything as Harry Potter asks!" Dobby exclaimed enthusiastically, and Harry simply smiled before suddenly remembering the day dream that had kick started this particular chain of events.

"Dobby, how does a house elf go about obtaining food?"

"House elf magic is being special, Harry Potter sir. We is being able to conjure food in a way that wizards can not. Is Harry Potter being hungry? Dobby can get any food that Harry Potter wishes!"

Harry's smile grew even wider still. Dobby was already proving to be a lifesaver - quite possibly literally.

"I would like that very much, Dobby. Roast chicken, maybe? With roast potatoes and gravy? Is that possible?"

Apparently, Dobby took the question as a mild insult, because it was a very indignant looking house elf that snapped his fingers, conjuring the requested meal and making it appear in front of him, still steaming hot.

"Dobby, you are _brilliant!"_

* * *

It was however, only after a few days that Harry began to realise just how much of a boon having a house elf around to help out could be. He of course was no longer going hungry now that Dobby could (and was really quite forceful about ensuring it) see to it that he got three square meals per day. His room was cleaner than it ever had been, and his scant belongings were now all neatly in their proper places throughout the room. Dobby had also insisted upon re-tailoring all of his clothes so that they at would at least fit him properly, and fixing his broken and incredibly springy bed, allowing Harry to get some of the best sleep he had ever had at the Dursleys.

Currently, the eager house elf was organising the many stacks of parchment that made up his notes and essays from his first two years at Hogwarts; de-creasing and cleaning the paper, and organising them chronologically and by subject. Harry on the other hand, had started to go over some of the less exciting pieces of magical theory covered in their first year at Hogwarts - the stuff he hadn't remembered or paid much attention to. Which, as it happened, was pretty much all of it; and, as he started on the basic theory behind transfiguration, it struck Harry that this was a pretty major reason that he was, magically speaking, an utterly average student. Theoretically speaking, he may as well stay at Privet Drive for all he had learnt - actually learnt, that is. Taken in, processed and _understood. _It was terrifyingly little.

He could of course remember the initial theoretical lesson they received in each of their practical magical subjects, mainly, because it was the same for all of them. Magic in simple general terms, was divided into several aspect. Power, intent, and execution. Power was the amount of magical force you could put into a spell when casting; intent was the visualization, which included picturing what and how you required the magic to behave, and intention behind a spell; and execution was the technical aspect, the wand movement, the incantation. Harry had listened and learned of this in his first few days in the castle, and absorbed the information gleefully, and used it to cast his first few spells relatively successfully; and yet, somewhere along the line, he had stopped. Stopped learning and progressing, and tried to force magic with an understanding of it that was fundamentally incorrect.

He had believed, that as long as he put sufficient power into a spell backed by the proper intent and execution, he would eventually be able to perform more and more advanced magic with little more than practice. Unfortunately, magic was vastly more complex, and more advanced magic of any discipline required a more advanced understanding of that disciplines own unique laws that governed the magic behind it.

Defensive magic, for Harry, was the simplest. He had excelled at it practically, but had never understood why. It was at it's heart, a brand of magic that stuck to the most basic formula. It was a magic of war and combat, and thus, the traits required when casting focused around the caster's power, and intent. You needed near perfect visualization of what you wanted, as well as a solid understanding of how the spell was to behave, which is why demonstrations were so incredibly important. Then, it required power, and the presence of mind and force of will to call upon it. This was where students started to lag behind Harry when it comes to casting. Hermione Granger could visualize and understand the magical properties and behaviors of a spell better than most 5th years; yet, when it came to the ability to call upon the depths of her magic, and then possess the willpower required to draw on it fully, even she could not hold a candle to Harry. The final aspect was the intent, the determination to succeed in say, blocking a spell, or disarming somebody. Execution was of course vitally important - your wand movements and incantations still directed your magic, and shaped it into what you required - but the other factors were the difference. The key components of truly mastering a spell.

He was one in the top two in his Defense classes, with him and Hermione trading places at the top throughout the year, but even Hermione was willing to admit that when it came to casting, she just didn't have what Harry did. The key element of casting defensive magic were already ingrained into him by his very nature - the willpower, the intent to see it succeed, the pure magical power. They were what Harry did naturally well, so naturally, he excelled.

And yet, when Harry walked into charms, or transfiguration, he suddenly became magically inept. In transfiguration, the need for power was suddenly exchanged by the need to understand how the magic would change the objects it interacted with. He needed to know the theory for how magic could change a mold metals and plastic, wood and living flesh, so that he could visualize those interactions happening and understand why. He was average at transfiguration rather than poor, because the art also heavily relied on intent, willing your magic to behave in a certain way. If he utilised 'intent' with enough power - more of course, than usually necessary - his magic could fill in the gaps, albeit imperfectly.

Charms, once again, brought a whole new set of rules to the table, and an entirely new focus. Pinpoint precision wand movements, perfect incantations, and crystal clear visualization and intent. Yet, rather than the willpower to call on the depths of one's magic that could be utilized in defense and to an extent, transfiguration, charm work required the opposite. Delicacy, finesse. The ability to control the amount of magic one drew upon with unerring accuracy, stopping at exactly the right amount instantly; because of course, overpowering a charm, even the most basic could cause it to go horribly wrong. Which of course is where Harry struggled.

That is not to say of course, that Harry was doing _poorly_ at school. He was, in all but a few of his classes, in the top bracket of students - average in the theoretical, but with a clear penchant for the practical. Rather, it was just that he had never really studied properly, or paid all that much attention to all but the most vital pieces of information. In other words, he had been cruising.

To anybody other than Harry himself, this would have been somewhat understandable. He had spent his entire life with the Dursleys, and it had not been a pleasant life. Constantly belittled, locked in a cupboard, starved... Harry didn't like to dwell on things that couldn't be helped, but either way, it had been a miserable existence. Then, a letter changed everything. Suddenly he was living and learning at Hogwarts, a place that was literally alive with magic. He had friends, and he laughed and joked with them, shared adventures with them; really, basilisks, Boy Who Loved and Dark Lords aside, for the first time in his life, he was a child. Just any other 12 year old wizard, and it was magnificent. So he made the most of it, made the most of friends, fun and adventures. And almost lost sight of the reason he was there in the first place.

To learn magic. He'd gotten caught up in, well, everything; and entirely neglected studying. Briefly, he wondered if his parents, who had apparently been two of the best students and later, wizards, of their age, would have been disappointed in him for it. But he shook it off almost as quickly as he had thought it. He knew enough to know they'd have understood.

Still, now it was all laid out in front of him, and he bothered to put some reading in, he couldn't help but be frustrated with himself. It had taken him three days of reading over the two years of theoretical notes in order for him to see quite how badly he had been handicapping himself. Learning spells was only the very thin surface membrane of what Hogwarts tried to teach those who were willing to learn. It is what most students - those who only half understood the theory, those who would not put the extra hours studying in - would learn, yes, but it was far from all.

Hogwarts was trying to encourage those willing to learn how to manipulate magic for themselves, to experiment and learn outside of that which had already been achieved, to create spells, and discover new uses for magic. For those listening, Hogwarts was trying to provide the tools. And for the first time in his two years as a wizard Harry's ears were wide open. He knew of course, he was only scratching the surface now, but to just recognise the possibilities was enough; because now he had, he couldn't possibly ignore them, and take full advantage of them. It would take years of long, arduous hours, studying, researching, experimenting before he would really get anywhere that others would recognise as unusual, or even impressive.

Memories of conversations with Hermione and Ron about electives in their third year came to him, and Harry realised that he should probably Owl Professor McGonagall. _Divination my arse. _

"Master Harry's Hogwarts equipment is being not nearly good enough for his needs, Master Harry." Dobby's sudden exclamation broke Harry out of his thoughts rather suddenly and unexpectedly, as the elf was usually reticent to speak unbidden, no doubt because of his previous masters, and it was a long moment before Harry really understood what Dobby was even talking about.

"I'm not exactly sure what you mean, Dobby." Harry stated tentatively. He was aware of course that he had only the basic, well, everything. Standard trunk, standard writing equipment, standard everything. That first trip to Diagon Alley had been both wondrous, and overwhelming, and he hadn't really been sure what to buy, and how much he should be spending, so he had stuck to buying the most basic things they had.

"Master Harry needs better belongings to help him with his studies!" The elf replied simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"What kind of things are you talking about, though Dobby?" Harry asked, exasperation coloring his voice. "I already have some books, and my writing equipment. What else would I need?"

Dobby frowned, his long spindly fingers stroking his chin in thought, before he snapped his fingers, and disappeared with a loud crack, leaving a rather confused Harry Potter alone in his room. He waited a minute or two to see if the elf would be back imminently, before deciding that he would wait for a few minutes before summoning him, just in case.

"Well that was o-"

CRACK!

"Things like these, Master Harry! Things that will help you learn!" Dobby exclaimed loudly, thrusting a collection of small books towards him.

Catalogs, he noted, from shops in Diagon Ally. Curios, he opened the first, and found himself realising exactly what Dobby had meant. It was the catalog for a shop that was for all intents and purposes, a wizarding stationers. Self-dictating quills, journals charmed so that they could last forever, blank books that would take on the contents of any book in your library so that you only ever needed to travel with one - there was just so much, and it all looked so incredibly useful that Harry had to wonder, exactly how he had missed all this the first two occasions that he had visited Diagon Ally. Dobby had also retrieved the (rather weighty) catalog for Flourish and Blotts, which Harry promised himself he's peruse later.

Now he had just had to figure out a way to buy all this stuff, and he'd be away.

"It's a shame I have next to no money - or even a way to get to Diagon Ally, come to think of it."

"If Master Harry tells Dobby what it is he is wanting, Dobby can buy it for Master Harry."

"But I barely have any gold, Dobby, you'd need my key for a start and-"

"I is not needing a key at all Master Harry!" Dobby interjected enthusiastically, "elves is being able to withdraw gold from Gringotts and do their masters shopping, if their master is of a Noble House."

That had Harry instantly curious.

"A Noble House Dobby?"

"Master Harry is not knowing?" The house elf asked, eyes wide in what was apparently shock. "The Potters is being one of the oldest families in England! They is a Noble family, very famous, and very good!"

A Noble House? The term sounded familiar, and he realised very quickly that he had absent mindedly heard none other than Draco Malfoy use it, in reference to his own family. His own, stinking rich, and incredibly prestigious family.

"Dobby," Harry began, fishing out what little money he had from his trunk. "I'm not sure why, bu nobody has ever told me about that my family was a Noble family. Would it be possible for you take this money to Flourish and Blotts, and see if you can get hold of any books on the Potter family history?"

"Of course, Master Harry! Dobby is being as fast as he can!"

* * *

Dobby had of course, being brilliant as he was, come through. Three books had been all Diagon Ally's premier book shop had been able to provide, and conveniently, it had been all he had been able to afford. The first, was an utterly mammoth tome, _The Complete Potter Family History_ by Charlus Potter; an absolute epic account of the Potter family beginning all the way back in the 10th century, when the first and only daughter of Godric Gryffindor married into the Peverell family, and eventually, that family name died out as Gryffindor had, and left the Potters in their wake.

Bloody hell.

He had thought he was the heir of Gryffindor only in spirit, not in actual blood!

Being a rather proud Gryffindor himself (as well as close friends with the Weasleys, who were genetically predisposed to being sorted into Gryffindor - and proud of it), he knew that being related to Gryffindor had almost no monetary benefits. He knew that he might be entitled to Gryffindor's sword, or perhaps access to any of his writings, but there were no Gryffindor vaults overflowing with gold and treasure, and if there had been, the goblins had picked it clean long ago.

What the name Gryffindor did come with however, is prestige, and a seat on the Wizengamut. He was not of age, and so that would have to wait until he was of course, but it was still good to know.

The second book, _The Fall of the Potter Family_; Harry thought he could have guessed the subject matter to, but was surprisingly off. Apparently, the Potter family had been in a steady financial decline for the better part of three centuries; going from one of the wealthiest families in Europe, to how they stood today, a minor player in financial terms. However, the reason for their decline, turned out to be because of their unerring support of the light.

The Potters had been, quite frankly, a huge family. Spread all over Europe, they dedicated themselves to fighting those who would abuse dark and evil magics, and campaigned furiously against any who styled themselves a Dark Lord. They had fought alongside Dumbledore against Grindelwald and his forces, and his father had expended what was left of his wealth trying to stave off the nigh-unstoppable Lord Voldemort. Eventually, the Potters were spent trying to keep the forces of evil at bay, leaving only Harry - the last Potter - in their wake.

The third, was a rather more interesting book for entertainment purposes, and was also a fairly lengthy read; _Famous Battles and Victories of the Potter Family_. In it, were wonderfully crafted accounts of the battles involving the Potters, along with eye witness accounts, and quotes from the Potters themselves. Much to Harry's fascination, two of his parents' duels with Voldemort were retold in rather excruciating detail, that nevertheless left him with a warm feeling of pride when he considered that his parents had been able to duel the most powerful Dark Lord in history, and not get their clocks cleaned.

Harry read, and read. He filled himself with knowledge of his family and their exploits, long into the early hours of the morning, and even dared to dream that some of his own exploits would some day be detailed in a book about the Potter family. After all, he hadn't managed to find any accounts of another Potter who had slain a Basilisk. _Surely_ that would be worth at least a paragraph?

"It is good, is it not, to be able to read about ones own family history in such detail?"

Harry jerked his head out of _The Complete Potter Family History_, which entirely obscured his face, and cast his eyes at the smiling figure of Albus Dumbledore.

10:15am. Bugger. He hadn't even realised it was no longer night.

"Especially, when it is a family such as the Potters. There are very few families with a history steeped in so much legend and folklore. Your Father used to take great pride in being able to tell stories of the Potters. His favorite I believe, was of William Potter, who after a lengthy battle, slew two fully grown dragons single handedly." Harry stared. He absolutely _had_ to find that one. "May I?" Dumbledore inquired gently, indicating to the large book Harry held in his hands.

"Of course, Professor." Harry replied, smiling as he handed the book over. Until of course, something weird happened. The book _shrunk_, and Dumbledore, predictably, was delighted.

"Wonderful piece of magic!" He exclaimed, "Truly marvelous! The author of this book was Charlus Potter, and as you may or may not be aware, he was your Grandfather." Harry's eyes widened at that, as he most definitely had not been. "He was a master of charm work, and the charm of this book is to prevent anyone other than a Potter from gaining access to the information about your family's heritage. You do not have to tell me if you do not think you should, or do not wish, but I have to ask for curiosity's sake; is the Potter family truly descended from Godric Gryffindor by blood?"

"Before I answer sir, just why would my grandfather want to keep whether or not we were related to Gryffindor a secret?"

"It is to do with the prestige of the seat, both in terms of reputation, and seats on the Wizengamut. As you are the last surviving air and are not yet of age, copies of that book are charmed to take steps to protect you by hiding information, so that others will be discouraged to try using your status as a minor to exploit the political power your name would hold."

"Ah, I see, that makes sense I suppose. And yes, I am related to Godric Gryffindor." Harry responded, his brain still trying to wrap it's head around the idea of somebody using _him_ for his political power and reputation.

He almost snorted to himself.

"Truly incredible! Like I said to you previously, only a true Gryffindor could have pulled the sword from the hat! Now then," Dumbledore started, his voice indicating that they were switching to the intended topic for this visit. "I believe I offered to offer you some self defense guidance this summer Harry. Would today be acceptable to you?" For no more than a fraction of a second, Dumbledore sagged slightly, and Harry noticed something off about his demeanor.

The headmaster looked _angry._ It was no more than a faint flicker behind his vivid blue eyes, but Harry could sense it. It was just a touch, and well disguised but for the first time, Harry was seeing the Headmaster mad. But there was something else - he seemed a fraction more reserved, quieter, upset even.

"Sir-" harry began, but Dumbledore interrupted him.

"And perhaps you ought to pack your things Harry, my dear boy. I don't suppose you would like to spend the rest of your summer at Hogwarts?" He asked slowly, regarding Harry carefully over his glasses.

"Yes! Of course I would - I'd loved to!" Harry enthused, but then noticed that his enthusiasm seemed to deaden the warmth that the man always seemed to exude. "Is... Everything okay, Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked tentatively.

"I believe that it shall be, Harry. I realised very recently that I have made a rather grave mistake, even though I was warned against it, and now I must decide how to atone for it."

Dumbledore could not have been aware of exactly how perceptive Harry had been, because he was lost in the torrent of memories he had just looked at from Vernon Dursley as he entered the house.

An accidental surface legilimancy probe was all it had taken to send the elderly headmaster's carefully built delusions crashing to the ground. Something Albus did often without meaning to, such was his instinctive mastery of the art. He had just been allowed into the house and instructed to head upstairs by the heavy set man, and just as Dumbledore had turned to do so, they made brief and unintentional eye contact.

Dumbledore received several blurry unclear images of pain that was not Vernon's own before he'd even registered what was going on. And, just as he was about to close off the connection, he received one, single clear thought:

_Any more of these freaks show up, and I will wring that scrawny little runt's neck - really make him hurt - for the first time since he got back_, too.

The combination of imagery and thoughts were enough for Dumbledore. He had whirled on the spot, robe billowing as he did so, his wand in his hand as if out of thin air. And then, he tore through the man's mind. Examined each and every memory that included Harry, every second beatings, starvation, and pain in agonizing detail, until he himself could bear it no longer.

Ironically the man was not adversely affected by the aggressive legilimancy, as he had no magic for Dumbledore's mind probe to attack.

The headmaster had started up the stairs almost immediately, too afraid that he would do something rash should he stay in Vernon Dursley's company any longer.

He wanted to rage, he wanted to hurt, he wanted to unleash his magic and take the foul house apart brick by brick, but did not. Instead, he calmed himself as best he could, and adopted the kindliest smile he could conjure, and took Harry Potter as far away from Privet Drive as he could.


	2. Hogwarts, A Home

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_Chapter Two  
_

_Hogwarts, A Home_

* * *

Harry reached for his stomach instinctively, and the Headmasters office burst into view around him, trying desperately to repress the urge to throw up whilst avoiding thinking about the unpleasant sensations that seemed to come with disappearing from one place and reappearing instantly in another.

"Did we just... Apparate?" Harry asked, only having heard the term in a discussion between some of the older Gryffindor students.

"A rather good deduction Harry, considering you have only completed your first two years. You did indeed just apparate with me - quite impressively too, most vomit on their first time. Now please, take a seat. Before we do anything, I would like to speak to you."

Harry could see why people were sick. Being apparated by Dumbledore had felt like getting washed down some kind of plughole, getting spun round and dragged headfirst through a pinhole. With any luck, it would be much better by yourself, or Harry would be sticking firmly to muggle transportation. Either way, he sat down. It was fairly unusual to see Dumbledore so matter of fact and straightforward in his experience, and Harry hadn't forgotten how Dumbledore had looked at Privet Drive just a few moments prior, no matter how well the headmaster tried to hide it.

"Harry, before I say anything else, are you aware of a kind of magic called 'legilimency?" At Harry's curious shake of the head, Dumbledore wasted no time in launching into an explanation. "I'm not surprised, it is am incredibly rare, and also quite difficult art. In essence, it is the art of reading another persons mind with magic. Those who master it can do so just by making eye contact, and even do it unconsciously, without even realising they are. This, if you will forgive me such immodesty, is the level I am at; and while I try my level best not to do so, I do on occasion find myself reaching into the minds of others without realising."

"Normally, this ability only ever amounts to what I refer to as 'skimming' - picking up the occasional surface thought or image, which is, might I add, particularly useful for being able to read somebodies intentions or mood. What you may not know, is that one's magic acts instinctively to protect it's owner, making it much harder for me to accidentally pick up more complex or intelligent surface thoughts without actively delving into the mind of whomever I am speaking to. Muggles, unfortunately, do not have that defense."

And with that final sentence, Harry felt his stomach clench together in a painful mix of dread and shame. He knew exactly where _this_ conversation was heading.

Of course, it wasn't as though he hadn't had to answer questions regarding his home life before. Ron and Hermione being his best friends, had realised within a few months of knowing him that something wasn't quite right with him and his muggle relatives; and when Ron and the twins had essentially been forced to break him out of his own home, it had been all but confirmed. Ron had not said anything overtly, because though Ron lacked tact and subtlety, he understood to an extent Harry's thinking. He had simply laughed and joked as they normally did at the Burrow and then at Hogwarts; though it had not escaped Harry's notice that for a few days, Ron's laughing and joking had been slightly forced, and when he thought Harry wasn't looking, his red headed best friend regarded him with a mixture of sadness and anger at the way he had apparently been treated. Ron had put in the extra effort to make sure Harry had enjoyed his time at the Burrow, and Harry had appreciated it more than he could really express.

The twins had their own way of dealing with the issue, both, like Ron, understanding that they would not be able to elicit the story from Harry. The simply went the extra mile to keep him laughing. Percy and Ron, Harry suspected, were pranked last summer more than they ever had been in their entire lives; and on top of that, it did not take a genius to realise that all through that Summer, and the subsequent year - even at the height of the Chamber debacle - Harry had never once been the victim of one of their pranks. Not only that, but at the height of the rumours that Harry himself was the Heir of Slytherin, the twins took it upon themselves to vocally announce their support for him (in their own unique way, of course), and made a point of not allowing him to be in the corridors without support wherever possible.

There was, after all, a reason Harry felt so incredibly indebted to the Weasley family. They had universally and unconditionally accepted him in a way that Harry had never experienced before, and their support even in the short time he had really known them, was something Harry knew he'd never really be able to repay.

Hermione on the other hand, had not seemed to realise that Harry did not want to answer questions about his less than stellar home life. She seemed committed to making him talk, dropping in questions and comments of varying subtlety, in order to get him to open up. She was one of his best and only friends, and Harry was starting to think of her as the sister he had never had; but Harry still wasn't willing to talk, and he had become rather adept at dodging and deflecting such inquiries, much to Hermione's chagrin.

He suspected however, that Dumbledore would not be so easy to evade.

"I did not mean to, but before I came up to your room; I caught a glimpse of what was going through your Uncle's mind, and what I saw gave me no other alternative to delve deeper." Dumbledore paused momentarily, his eyes meeting Harry's, glittering softly with tears that he felt far too old to shed. "And, I saw everything. I looked through the man's entire set of memory's associated with you..."

Harry sucked in a breath, and he felt certain his heart had stopped beating. He couldn't breath. This had been his closest, most fiercely guarded secret, despite that his friends had already begun to guess.

When he was younger, he used to be scared. The memories and nightmares, the possibility of what his Uncle would do if he stepped out of line terrified him.

Harry was not sure exactly when, but a few years ago, the fear had turned into something else. He didn't quite hate the Dursleys. Rather, he hated the idea of appearing weak in front of them, and despised the idea of ever being seen to have given up, to have stopped defying them.

But with that, had come the shame. Every time his Uncle would strike and beat him, or starve him, or even just spit vile insults into his face; the sheer disgust that he felt with himself because he was too weak to do anything about it burned away at him on the inside. In the face of his family's vitriol, it stoked and fueled the flames of his defiance, his refusal to be crushed.

Once locked away by himself however, it gnawed away at the back of his mind. Picking and clawing at his self esteem, making him feel _worthless_. His sole refuge had been that no one else had seen that side of him. The weak side of Harry Potter.

No longer.

"What they did was foul, Harry, and would have left many older and wiser in an emotional mess. And yet, here you are; stronger and more impressive than any I have seen at your age, despite all of the hardships that have come your way."

Harry allowed himself to breath again, just long enough to protest the man's words, "strong- No, I- I let them..." He stammered, desperate denial tainting his protests; but they were cut off by hands grasping at his shoulders, and Dumbledore kneeling down in front of him, gazing intently into his eyes.

He hadn't even noticed the man get up.

"It does not make one weak when they are unable to stand up against those much stronger than themselves. You never submitted, remained defiant, and emerged at Hogwarts standing tall. No weak person could have reached the Stone in your first year, no weak person could have slain the Basilisk in the Chamber in your second. You are a person that nobody could call weak. I can not begin to tell you how proud I am at the person you are becoming, and I don't need to have been as close to James and Lily Potter as I was to be able to say that they would have been immensely proud of you too."

Dumbledore stood and looked away from Harry, a gesture for which he was immensely grateful for, as several of the tears he hadn't been able to contain slid down his cheeks.

It was always something he'd wondered, a question he feared the answer to; _would his parents have been proud of him__?_ Given his recent reflections on his school performance, and the way he felt he had allowed the Dursley's to walk all over him, he had just assumed...

But hearing that there might be a chance that they would be proud, especially from someone like Dumbledore, lit a spark of hope within him.

Family had played heavily on his mind ever since he had started reading about the Potter family history. It's glorious past, and prestigious reputation, one of the last truly Noble families. He wanted desperately to make his parents proud, but after reading about his family history... It just seemed outrageous that a family like the Potters had fallen away in the way it had. He had found himself wondering more than once, whether he could do anything to rectify that, to restore his family to the way it had been before.

Surely that, would make his parents proud.

Not only that, but it would pull together with the rest of his goals. The Potters were famous for their role as guardians against the dark arts, so Harry would have to be sure to become the best wizard he could be in order to be able to fulfill that role - in other words, he would have to really work on his grades and studying. This meshed perfectly with the recent revelation that he had been severely handicapping himself by not studying, and the subsequent resolution to do something about it.

Harry wasn't aware of it, and looking back in the years to come, he probably wouldn't be able to pinpoint the moment when it happened; but right there and then, something fundamental changed within him. He had always been rather good at identifying his failures and weaknesses, but now, he felt a resolve to _do_ something about them that he had never had before, a will to succeed and meet the rather lofty goals he had just begun to map out in his head.

"I- I don't want to revisit what the Dursleys are like," Harry began, his voice a touch distant as his mind continued to conjure images and plans of how he could go about reaching his goals. "I feel... At peace with what happened there, with how they are. I'm not even angry, I just want to move on from it. Will I- I mean, do I have to go back there next Summer?"

"No, and never again, if you do not wish to." Dumbledore stated firmly, a small smile gracing his face as he watched the emotions play out across the boy's face. His words regarding the Dursleys were true, he was at peace with it, though not fully healed - mentally or physically. Such things would take time, but the mental strength it would take to come to terms with it in the way Harry had was just something that most did not possess. It gave the Headmaster great hopes for the future, and was one more subtle indicator that Harry was a suitable candidate for a position that Dumbledore had been looking to fulfill since he himself vacated it. But that was an issue for later, Harry had more pressing concerns, and Albus needed time to see Harry learn and perform magic himself in order to judge his readiness.

Still, the thought - the very possibility excited the aging wizard more than anything.

"That is one of the main reasons I have taken you here with all of your belongings. Hogwarts is a rather unique castle, in that it can change itself to accommodate the needs of those who reside within it." He stated, resting his chin upon steepled fingers, having returned to his seat. "However, for you, as a descendant of Gryffindor himself, the Castle is even more impressive.

"In short, as an heir of Godric himself, the Castle will readily provide you shelter, since you do not have a home of your own to return to. I believe, the magic the Founders instilled into the building has allowed it to open personal living quarters close to the Gryffindor Common Room. I believe it is the same as what the teachers are allowed - A bedroom, a living area, bathroom, and a study. And, considering my own, I have to say I believe it will be rather cosy." Dumbledore finished, smiling warmly over his glasses at the ever so slightly shell shocked boy before him.

"I can live _here_?" He asked incredulously, not sure whether or not he believed what he was being told.

"Indeed. Obviously, during term time you will be expected to sleep in the dormitories, and access to your private quarters should be used... Responsibly; but, outside of term time, yes, this is now your home until you are old enough and able to find a house of your own. If you like, I can also arrange to have a floo connection opened so that you may have your friends visit... I imagine the Weasley family in particular would enjoy having the run of the Quidditch pitch, correct?"

"Really? That would be brilliant!" Harry practically cried out in response, the excitement coming off him in waves at the prospect.

"Excellent. Now then, how about we spend some time on the reason you asked for my help in the first place, hmm? Defense. Then, you can get down to the important business of exploring your new quarters."

* * *

For a first lesson, Dumbledore hadn't actually gone over anything new. He had wanted to see Harry's current knowledge; what spells he knew, how good he was at casting them, how well he _understood _them. Understanding what he was casting, seemed to be the focal point of the lesson. For a second, going on third year, his actual knowledge of spells was relatively weak. Possibly because of a slightly tame curriculum, possibly because of two years worth of shoddy teaching, his list of spells learnt in Defense lessons was pitifully short. _Lumos, Flipendo,_ and _Expelliarmus _were all he had picked up from Quirrell and Lockhart - with only the latter two being much use in a duel, and his Charms lessons had provided him with _Incendio _to use as well. He had, however, been certain to learn _Serpensortia _after the dueling club incident with Malfoy; and Hermione had taught him both the Leg-locker curse, and the Full Body Bind.

It was, he realised, more than many; but also not as much as it could or should be - he was after all, painfully aware that Hermione had been developing an extensive repertoire of minor hexes and jinxes (that she naturally would never use).

However, Dumbledore didn't seem to be disappointed. Conversely, he was quite pleased that he couldn't find a fault in his wand movements and casting; and was especially delighted that he had managed to learn _Serpensortia_, and cast with enough power to summon a 6-foot python. Dumbledore, after having seen him cast each spell several times, sat him down and asked him questions regarding the spells. In what situations could they be useful? How easy is it to vary the power, and what effect would that have on the spell itself? How could one vary the spell itself, tweak it if you will, so that it could accomplish a variety of things?

Harry had never found a discussion on what was technically magical theory so engaging before. They ran through and discussed a multitude of different scenarios and how the few spells Harry knew could be used; and he had been invited to make small changes to how he cast certain spells in order to see the effects. By the end, he had managed to figure out how to cast _Serpensortia _and have the spell summon multiple snakes, rather than just a single one.

It had been, to be frank, one of the most enlightening lessons he had ever had; and had been more than a little disappointed when Dumbledore called a halt to the session after two hours. Dumbledore's final lesson was that 'a spell is never technically mastered; there are always new ways in which a spell can be modified, advanced, or used for a different purpose; and there are always refinements to be made in one's casting of a spell. Therefore, one must never stop practicing or experimenting with the spells they know - never become complacent in your knowledge.' It stuck with him, buzzed around in his mind, resulting in him being incredibly eager to continue experimenting in his own time. Which was just as well, since Dumbledore had also informed him that the ministry would not be able to detect his magic within the castle walls, and therefore inside, he was free to practice as much as he liked.

For now however, he was still trying to get his head round his living arrangements. It would seem that Dumbledore was a master of understatement, if his quarters were anything to go by.

He managed to gain entrance through a portrait a few feet away from the Fat Lady - a portrait of Godric Gryffindor no less (though it claimed that the magic that created of it forbade it from recounting detailed history or any of Godric's actual magic, hence why it was safe enough to be out in the corridor) - and after a small stairway, the room opened up into a central chamber. It was large and round, and decorated much as the Gryffindor Common Room was, with a desk at the far end, and several comfy looking deep, red chair and sofa's throughout; and, of course, a roaring fireplace on the East Wall, leaving the room comfortably warm and glowing from the firelight.

It was the study that really took Harry's fancy however. It was as far away from how Dumbledore had made it seem, when he mentioned in it in a sort of casual, off-handed sort of way. It, to be blunt, was huge - nearly as big as the main chamber of his quarters in fact - and rectangular. One side was clearly cut out for more academic purposes. The three walls were lined with large, oak book cases, currently empty of course; and on the far wall next to one of the cases, was a good size set of drawers for storing work and supplies. In between the three cases, was a large desk, clearly designed for group work, but also comfortable enough for just one person, with three chairs already in place ready for use.

The other side though, was a potions lab, of really quite impressive quality. Already set up, was a pewter cauldron, ready to begin brewing; and the shelves on the walls were stocked with the more basic, and easy to preserve ingredients, and a cursory glance led Harry to notice that it was mostly stocked up with items Harry recognised, which meant that it was pretty much tailor made for a third year potions student to practice and use everything they had learned up to that point.

Harry made a private oath that he would practice enough that he would be able to knock the sneer off of Snape's face with the quality of his potions.

The bedroom was rather similar to his dorm room in Gryffindor tower, a large four poster bed, with a desk and comfortable chair, shelves for personal effects, a wardrobe and space for his trunk; it was comfortable, and cosy, and Harry was quite sure it was a million times better than anything at Privet Drive.

But more than anything, overwhelmingly so, for the first Summer of his life, Harry was struck with the incredible sensation of being _home_. That was what Hogwarts - and by extension the wider Wizarding World - had come to mean to him in the short few years he had known it. Easily more so than Privet Drive ever had been, and the people he had come to know since that fateful day when Hagrid had burst into a rickety wooden cabin on his eleventh birthday were more like family to him than the Dursleys had ever been.

And the thought of family brought him full circle to his own, new found sense of purpose. It was two-fold, really. First, he needed to become a good enough wizard that his parents would be truly proud of him. He wanted to exceed them, be the best for them - no small feat considering exactly how talented the Potter's had been - and in the shorter term, be good enough to keep himself alive; both from the threat posed by Sirius Black, and from the general madness that seemed to assault his life on a near constant basis.

And secondly, he wanted to build the, as he now knew it to be named, Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, back into the famed wizarding family it had been in the past. But, obviously, how to go about achieving this goal was something that Harry still hadn't figured out yet. Obviously, his most pressing concern was that all the notable Wizarding Houses seemed to have land, wealth, and properties. He was aware that the Potter's had once owned a great mass of land all the way across Europe, but it had been all gradually sold off until there was practically nothing remaining. Acquiring the substantial amounts of gold required to rebuild an entire Noble House's status would both be one of his most difficult, and important tasks.

He supposed, a good starting point, would be to hit the books - and his inner Hermione agreed vehemently. He needed to know ways the wealthy Wizarding family's made and maintained their fortunes, how they were supposed to function and operate in society, he needed to know about customs, and traditions, the way the government worked, the way the banks worked. In short, he knew nothing that he needed to, and he needed to know a lot.

The other slight quirk was he needed to know what he actually already _owned_ as a Potter. He knew he had a trust vault, and that it was not his actual vault; and, not only that, it was filled with enough money to see him through until the end of his time at Hogwarts. He didn't know however, if his family had owned any land, or any property, or even what was in his main vault, if anything.

As such, the very _first _thing he did, was write several letters. The first, to Gringott's, requesting either a written statement of everything he owned and the extent of what wealth he had; and a letter each to Ron and Hermione, explaining what had happened, and that they would be able to visit once his Floo connection had been sorted.

And then, he hit the library. He sought out as much as he could on the Ministry, and the Wizengamot, of the other Noble families and their history's, on the way the banking system worked.

Naturally, he also managed to seek out a tome of defensive magic, but that was neither here nor there.

The only other thing he did that day, besides reading and trying to formulate his plans, was visit Dumbledore once more, for a rather more ordinary conversation than they were accustomed to having. Simply put, he wished to change his electives for the coming year. Suddenly, taking Divination didn't seem like quite such a good idea.

The headmaster, much to Harry's pleasure, was all too happy to acquiesce to his requests, and even helped offer up advice on which electives he should be looking at.

He stated that, since Harry possessed no seer powers that he was aware of, Divination would be rather pointless; however, it would be counter productive, in Dumbledore's opinion, to dive into heavily academic subjects, when Harry himself did not learn best in an academic environment, and was not likely to enjoy such subjects. Therefore, Harry's initial reaction to take up Arithmancy and Ancient Runes over Divination and care of Magical Creatures was advised against.

Dumbledore then went on to point out, in light of Harry's recent interest in his family's history, that the Potter's had traditionally kept and managed a large amount of magical creatures on their lands, which were subsequently harvested for materials to sell and craft with - therefore Harry might well enjoy and largely benefit from taking Care of Magical Creatures. His second suggestion was frustratingly cryptic, which was a return to the Dumbledore of the past two years, over the refreshingly straightforward Dumbledore that he had spent time with this summer.

He had advised that Harry took Ancient Runes, a heavily theoretical subject, despite his previous advice to try and avoid such subjects, stating only that while he couldn't force Harry to take it, and it wasn't vital as such, he strongly believed that Harry would find it incredibly useful, especially in the coming year, and left it at that.

Despite his reservations, and exasperation, Harry decided to take the Professor at his word. Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes it was. Hermione would be delighted with the latter, at least. Dumbledore's cryptic and unclear advice had come through more that once now, and Harry wasn't about to ignore it now.

It looked like he would be needing to pick up a book or two on Ancient Runes. A head start couldn't hurt at all.

Hermione _would _be proud.

* * *

A week passed, and increasingly, Albus Dumbledore found himself being taken aback by Harry Potter; his drive, his attitude, his talent, his personality - well, just about everything, if he was being honest.

Not for the first time, he promised that he would grovel out an apology to Minerva for not listening to her sooner about Harry's maturity and mental state.

Of course he knew the boy was incredibly kind and noble, after all, it's not everyday somebody will venture knowingly into a confrontation with a Basilisk to save the life of someone they barely know. But Harry wasn't just noble, he was driven almost entirely by his love for his friends, and his need to ensure that they weren't at risk. Of course, he had his own goals and ambitions, and had over the last few days confided and discussed them with Albus as part of their daily sessions; yet, at the same time, everything he did subconsciously seemed to come back to keeping the people he cared about safe and happy. He practiced his defensive magic not to keep himself safe from Sirius Black, but so he could defend his friends from him, should he appear. He wanted to restore his house, yes because he was proud of his family history and wanted to honour it, but mostly, it was so his future family could enjoy and experience it in a way he never had.

His maturity was also astounding to Dumbledore, mainly because he was accustomed to generalizing for entire age groups. He was mature and responsible far beyond his years, just as Minerva had said, and after his probe at the Dursleys, he knew why. He didn't exactly have any kind of a childhood, and that was before Hogwarts came along, and started doing it's level best to kill the dark haired Gryffindor. It actually made Dumbledore a little guilty, because he had tended to speak to Harry as a child, rather than who he actually was; not to mention, the information about Harry's life that Dumbledore had not yet revealed, for fear of spoiling what remained of his childhood. The headmaster's excuses for not telling Harry were beginning to get flimsy - and he knew it.

However, all these things Dumbledore was at least somewhat prepared for, given his interactions with Harry, and his rather... colorful history. What he was unprepared for however, was the rate at which Harry Potter was learning.

Quite simply, Harry after motivating himself properly, was a machine. He absorbed and understood lessons and words like a sponge, and was an incredibly quick thinker, able to hold discussions on topics he had only just learned about. Dumbledore had only taught him two actual spells in the short week they had been working together at this point - dueling fundamentals by anyone's measure; the Stunning Spell, and he Shield Charm, spells that any duelist would know and be able to use perfectly. Harry was casting nigh on perfect stunners - a fourth year spell - after an hour, and after another short 30 minutes, was casting solid Shield Charms. By the end of his second two hour session on the subject, he was learning how to vary the power put into each spell and play with the size and angle of the shields.

They had begun work on a very great many topics, from dueling, to practical Herbology, and Harry had drunk in everything Dumbledore had to say. The Headmaster couldn't quite pin down a reason for Harry's improvement, whether it was proper motivation with the threat of Sirius Black, and Harry's new found goals; an improved attitude, or even just the individual attention for a boy, who most teachers claim rarely gives any answers or asks for help in his classes. Either way, even a wizard such as Dumbledore found himself impressed by the child's rate of learning.

And this wasn't even taking into account the work Harry was doing by himself. He was clearly brewing, refining his knowledge and working ahead for Severus' Potions class; and Hagrid had reported that Harry had found himself spending at least an hour a day with the Half-Giant, asking questions and learning from the man's surprisingly considerable knowledge of magical creatures. Not only that, but Harry had spent a good many hours in the Library, attempting to learn all he could about wizarding government and culture mainly, and as a result had also begun to probe Albus himself for his rather vast knowledge of how the Wizengamot functioned.

But, most of all, more important than any of the above to Dumbledore; was how happy Harry had become. Once Harry had gotten past his unease at living in the castle, he had rather come alive as a result of being away from the Dursleys. It didn't take long to notice the increase in smiles, and confidence; the extra energy and drive that he had begun to develop. That Harry could feel so much better away from his relatives was both wonderful, and incredibly painful to Dumbledore to see. He loved to see the boy happy, but the improvement was a visible reminder of how he himself had been the cause of Harry's unhappiness in the first place.

A combination of all these things, and the confirmation that Harry was indeed the heir of Gryffindor, was all the confirmation that Albus Dumbledore needed to take this next step - one that he had been pondering since the very start of the summer. The last person to try and take this step, was one Tom Marvolo Riddle, the boy who became Lord Voldemort; and before him, it was a young and prodigious Albus Dumbledore. Both had been rejected, their spirit and heart deigned unworthy by the magic in place. Albus had managed to cope with his disappointment, move past it. Tom Riddle's rejection had led to an unhealthy obsession with locating artifacts related to the founders.

Both had been in their final years, much more mature and complete than Harry was at this point, and to put him through it was a calculated risk - but one that Dumbledore felt was worth it.

What he had in mind would not hurt Harry physically, indeed, the experience was rather fascinating, and enlightening regarding oneself; but rejection in any way hurt, and rejection in something so important hurt that much deeper. Either way, the chance would be offered to Harry as it had been offered to him, and that was why the child had been called to his office today.

"Harry, the reason I have requested that you meet me here, is to offer you the chance to learn magic in way the very few before you have ever managed to learn - not to mention that you'll learn kinds of magic that nobody alive today knows."

"Not even you, sir?" Harry asked, his curiosity clearly piqued by the unusual opening statement, "and if nobody alive knows it - how am I going to?"

"Well, as with all good questions such as yours, the answer is not as simple as you may have initially imagined, and begins, if you'll permit me to ramble as old men are wont to do, with a story." Dumbledore stated, a soft smile appearing at Harry's obvious desire to hear more. "You see, when the Founders built the castle and began to teach, they realised that even if they picked an apprentice to teach, they would not be able to pass on all of their considerable knowledge of magic down to the next generation. If they tried - much would have been lost; so instead, they took a different approach."

"They wrote journals and manuscripts, and a many great books; and crafted magical items, weapons and jewellery, with the intention that a worthy successor could locate them, and discern their secrets, and allow their knowledge to be passed on. Of course, not everyone is worthy of such knowledge, of wielding the power that it would bring, so they put their brilliant minds at work to devise a test, which naturally with four of the greatest magical minds in history working on it, became a long series of tests and trials in order to allow a potential candidate to prove their worthiness."

"The first is perhaps the hardest to pass, yet it is also the simplest. It is a judge of character if you will, an examination of whether or not you fit the characteristics that the Founders required in choosing an Apprentice."

"Like the Sorting then, Professor?" Harry interjected, glancing sideways at the ragged and tattered sorting hat resting on a shelf across from him."

"Yes my boy, yes! _Exactly_ like the sorting - moreso, than I think you are imagining now. You must wear the hat once more, and it will judge you based upon whether or not you have enough of the qualities of each of the four Houses; but most of all, you must be deemed pure enough of heart to be able to handle the knowledge responsibly. I myself, unfortunately, was rejected by this process - but you I believe Harry, are a much better man than I, I do not doubt you."

Harry fought not to scoff at that - Dumbledore was kind and forgiving to a fault, and serene in temperament. If he wasn't pure enough, there was no way that Harry was. "I'm still not sure exactly how this works, or about what _this_ is, sir..."

"In short Harry, should you be accepted, you will become the Founder's Apprentice - their heir in all but blood. This in turn, will allow you access to the trials the Founders have created. Should you succeed in passing the trials, you will be rewarded by something from one of the founders - a journal, a tome, an item - that will allow you access to magical knowledge that nobody has been able to access in a thousand years. Obviously, they will not have made such an undertaking easy. The Founders were well travelled, and long-lived; I have heard from the last known Apprentice that there were locations scattered across almost all of the magically significant places on the planet - Britain, Europe, Egypt, Africa, South America - and it will be down to you to locate these, pass the trials, and obtain the knowledge."

"Practically speaking of course, this is a little trickier to organize. Should you be accepted, you will be allowed to organize your expeditions and research alongside your usual classes, and if you desire, your sessions with myself; however, it is likely for the best that your role as the Apprentice take a backseat to your basic education, at least for a while. The Founders Apprentice is a position, albeit an ancient one, that is recognised by the Ministry. Being accepted would result in you being recognised as of age, and all the responsibilities and requirements that accompany that will fall upon you also - I believe you are aware of them as a result of your reading, yes?"

Harry nodded slowly, still a little stunned at what he was hearing. "Yeah, the Potter seat on the Wizengamot is activated, I have to manage my own accounts, I can apparate and perform magic legally, get a job, and a whole bunch of other things that come with reaching the age of majority." Harry stated in slow murmur, trying desperately to process everything he had just been told. "So, what kind of trials are there, besides the Sorting; and who was the last Apprentice?"

"Your second question is a rather easy one to answer, for I was well acquainted with him - the Last, and only Apprentice of the Founders was one Nicholas Flamel, who was actually my own mentor for a time, as I intend to be for you. However, he was not as desperately thirsty for knowledge as some, and only completed a few trials, though the ones he did complete contributed massively to his work on the Philosopher's Stone. As for the trials themselves, this is a little more difficult to answer because so few have actually been undertaken. As I understand it, they are tests of not only magical skill, but also of traits the founders held dear. As such, a Gryffindor trial may be some sort of test of bravery. Nicholas tells me that they are charmed to eject you should you become wounded in order to prevent loss of life, and also trials that are beyond your magical ability will be beyond your access - though exactly how this magic works eludes even my mind. You can be hurt, quite severely I would think, but the Founders made every effort to ensure that those who were worthy would not be killed needlessly."

Internally, Harry started weighing things up in his mind. These would be dangerous, and a lot of hard work for sure, especially with him technically coming of age as part of the process; but, at the same time, Harry couldn't help but feel a slight thrill at the idea, a slight buzz of adrenaline at the prospect of an adventure. The knowledge he could gain would be invaluable of course, and it was almost worth it simply to be able to travel to all the places where the Founders have been, possibly even to learn magic in other wizarding cultures. After talking briefly to Ron's eldest brother, Bill Weasley, who worked as a curse breaker in Egypt, Harry knew that magic varied massively from culture to culture.

Not only that, it seemed like an ideal way to gain experience and allies, and find ways to raise funds; all vital things for rebuilding his family into what it once was. Oh, and he was pretty sure Hermione would flay him alive if he turned his nose up at the opportunity to learn things that no-one else had. That was some pretty heavy motivation right there. All in all, it seemed that it was too great of an opportunity to pass up; and he had nothing to lose by at least seeing if he would be accepted as an Apprentice.

"Okay, I'll take the first test. I want to at least see if I'll be accepted."

Dumbledore simply smiled widely, and wandlessly summoned the Sorting Hat into his hands, and passed it to the raven haired boy sitting in front of him, so that he may be judged.

* * *

"Ah, Mr. Potter. I wondered if I would be seeing you once more as part of my duties. Not much has changed in here, yet, everything is different. Interesting, very interesting. A thirst to prove oneself has become a thirst to succeed; a good mind has become a keen and eager one, that is growing all the time; you have started to learn the true value of hard work, and I have to say, you have always been wonderfully loyal to those whom you give your trust to; and of course, only a true Gryffindor could pull the sword from me Mr. Potter, as you well know. You are Godric's blood, and his spirit. You were brave at eleven, but now, two years later; that bravery has blossomed into a mighty courage, that you spread amongst those around you. There is a reason of course, that your two friends would follow you into battle as they do, believe in you as they do... But how about the true test, the test of heart, of purity?"

Harry's breath caught, he had he supposed passed the initial test, though he wasn't sure with how much he agreed. He didn't feel he had much of the qualities the hat listed at all.

"You have a strong temper, and a lot of anger within you, that much is clear - but that does not necessarily mean you are impure of course. Quite the opposite in fact, I would be worried if you did not hold any anger within yourself, given what you have experienced. Your actions I believe, speak louder than any of my words can. You will act simply because it is right, you need no other motivation. At eleven, you fought a mountain troll because it was right, you sought the Stone, but not to use - it didn't even tempt you- because it was _right_. You ventured into the Chamber to save a life, despite a year of being slandered, simply because you would not have been able to live with yourself if you hadn't. Yes, Mr. Potter; imperfect you may be, but you are pure in spirit."

He didn't dare believe what he thought the Hat was saying - that he was passing a test of spirit that Dumbledore had not.

"A worthy successor I think, child. I once said that you would be great in Slytherin - and I was right! But for you, it shall be so as a Gryffindor as well! I hereby name you as an Apprentice of the Four Founders, Rowena, Helga, Godric, and Salazar; and as such, I have one final message for you: Helga's first has not one key, but three, strewn amongst the Quoits of Kernow. Locate them all to gain entrance and face your trial, and once successful - be rewarded, with the knowledge, of that ancient tongue. Now then Mr. Potter, good luck - I look forward for seeing just how great you become."

And with that, the Hat returned to it's lifeless state, waiting for the next Sorting to occur. "I... Was accepted..." Harry trailed off, simultaneously not quite believing that he could have been accepted, and trying to work through the Hat's final message in his mind.

"Congratulations Harry - I had no doubt in my mind!" Dumbledore's words were genuine, as was the delight and pride on his face. "Did the Sorting Hat provide any guidance for how you are supposed to proceed?"

"It did, Professor. Kernow... That's Cornwall, isn't it? I remember hearing about it, perhaps in History of Magic. The Hat's message said I would have to go their for the trial - one of Helga Hufflepuff's trials - to be rewarded with the 'knowledge of that ancient tongue', which would mean an old Cornish language."

"Indeed it is - Kernow is the County's name in Cornish. Cornwall, in times past, was once a place of great magical significance; and for a long time, played host to much of the country's magical population. The Founders were alive for much of this period, so it does not surprise me that there would be a trial there at all; not only that, but Godric himself was born in the West Country - Belerion, or Land's End, if I'm not mistaken. Helga Hufflepuff would have been well-versed in the Cornish language at the time, as the language of her birthplace in Wales was vastly similar. I have to say, that though the Cornish language certainly still exists today, and I know for certain that Godric and Helga both used it for spell craft, there are almost no magics I can think of remaining that use the language - if that is to be your reward, than it is immensely valuable, both academically, and in terms of practicality."

Harry thought over Dumbledore's words carefully. He still had a great many questions of course - What were Quoits? What would the keys look like, or be? Where would the final location of the trial be? Asking Dumbledore would likely at least get him as close to the answers as he could without Dumbledore actually doing the trial for him, but did he really want Dumbledore to do that? To just hand him the answers? In his opinion, that would rather defy the point of it being a trial in the first place.

"So, I'll have to do some research into Cornwall, and Helga Hufflepuff then - figure out where I'm going to have to go. I would assume it would be a good idea to actually learn Cornish as well; is there anyone who can teach me?"

"You could of course learn through a tutor, and I do in fact know of a few; however, there are several magical ways you might consider utilizing before you rush out to hire one. Firstly, there is a charm that will allow you to understand, read and speak different languages temporarily. It is however, rather difficult, and tracking down the specific spell for Cornish may be a struggle. Another is a Language Lozenge, which is essentially the same thing in sweet form; a temporary measure that tricks the brain into speaking, reading and understanding a language - of course Cornish ones, like the spell, are very rare and only temporary. The final option open to you then, is the Draught of Language - a fairly rare potion, that is particularly hard to brew. It essentially makes you more receptive to learning and understanding a language. You could drink a dose, and for several hours, you will be able to read in Cornish, and understand it spoken. However, the potion allows your brain to internalize the information - essentially, if you were to spend a few days studying Cornish, it would be simple for you to learn the language."

Harry was of course, astounded. "If it's that simple, Professor, then why doesn't everybody use it? Especially for languages such as Latin, and Egyptian - languages with real practical magical use."

"Many in fact _do _use it, Harry. I myself know over thirty languages, and only learned Spanish the conventional way. However, the ingredients are fairly rare, and usually only a potions master would be capable of brewing it. Buying the potion off the shelf in quantities enough to learn several languages would cost a small fortune. It just so happens that Hogwarts has a good supply of ingredients, and a live-in potions master."

"Do you really think Professor Snape would brew the potion for me?" Harry asked, being careful to use Snape's title since it looked like the greasy-haired bully might end up doing him a favor.

"He already has, Harry - admittedly, I was required to impress upon him the importance of such an undertaking, but I digress. I have here a supply of enough of the Draught for you to learn Cornish, and three other languages of your choice." Dumbledore stated, carefully lifting a large glass cylinder of emerald green liquid from somewhere underneath his desk. "Your suggestion of Latin and Egyptian were rather practical and well thought out; perhaps Greek, or Ancient Norse, considering your choice of Runes as a subject for the coming year. However, I must state unequivocally that Professor Snape will not brew this on my behalf for you again. If you desire more, you must discover your own source I'm afraid."

Harry didn't doubt that. His Potions Professor, one Severus Snape, had loathed Harry since day one for absolutely no discernible reason. The man never missed an opportunity to insult Harry and/or his brewing ability, or make crude digs about his parents. Initially, Harry had looked forward to Potions - it had seemed like something he could be good at, given his experience in the kitchen. But Snape had dismantled that particular day dream thoroughly on the first day, and Potions had become synonymous with the misery that Snape seemed to delight in causing.

The thing that annoyed Harry most of all, as he sat there thinking about his experiences with the man, is that he was clearly a masterful brewer. He was blatantly talented, had an unbelievable depth of knowledge, and was one of the very few true masters of Potions in Britain, if not the world. Yet, the man was not fit to teach a thing. He was abrasive, and unwilling to help any who needed, and unwilling to explain the complexities necessary to become truly talented. He wrote set instructions on the board, and left the class to it; as such, the best any of his students could do, was mechanically churn out standard potions. The best Snape would ever produce would be good, but not exceptional students.

To grow into the same calibre of Potions master that Snape himself was, you needed a teacher who could bring that out of you. Most magic could be learned effectively from text, with enough practice; teachers sped up the process and made it easier, but were not entirely necessary. The notable exceptions for this rule amongst the Hogwarts curriculum were Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, and finally, Potions. They were all subjects where success was not determined by set knowledge and then practice; but by watching, and experiencing through actually doing. Herbology and CoMC required you to see what you had to do, and be guided through it, and shown how to deal with the infinite possibilities that came with dealing with things that were as unpredictable as living creatures.

Potions, was somewhat comparable to cooking - yet at the same time, utterly incomparable. Harry likened it to learning to cook, without the opportunity of second chances f you mess up. Mixing ingredients, and the brewing process was rather like brewing; in that in fact, there was no actual set amount, or precise rules; it was all about balancing the flavors, so to speak, and intuitively knowing enough about your ingredients that you know how they will react with each other. This was something that could never be taught by Snape. When cooking, it is possible to learn by yourself, to experiment without any greater risk than spoiling the dish. However, with Potions, exploding cauldrons, poisonous fumes, acidic failures and many other incredibly dangerous results for otherwise small or innocuous mistakes. The risk was so much greater - there were no second chances, and thus, it was stupendously difficult and risky to try and teach oneself.

Care of Magical Creatures, for Harry as a Potter, was key; but as he was taking it as an elective, he would not worry until he had gotten a measure of the teacher for the subject. If all was well, then he would be set. Herbology too, was important. Being able to produce ingredients and useful plants would not only be a good source of income, but would be incredibly useful for undertaking the trials, and the traveling that went with it. Potions then, was the only real problem - one he had already vowed to rectify...

"...Sir," Harry said, finally, "is there anyone of Professor Snape's skill who would be willing to tutor me at Potions - and maybe willing to brew for me too; come to think of it, would my Vault be able to cover that? Is that a route I can explore?"

Needless to say, that Dumbledore was a little taken aback by Harry's suggestion, after such a long pause whilst the boy mulled things over in his mind. In actual fact, the suggestion made sense - Potions was an incredibly useful area of knowledge, and Dumbledore was well aware of Severus Snape's deficiencies. Trouble was, in the entire country, there were only two Potion's Masters of Snape's quality. One was Snape, and the other had retired, though he might be convinced if he were asked by someone famous enough, or perhaps had something of sufficient enough value to him...

Suddenly, Dumbledore had an idea.

"I believe, young Harry; that I might just know somebody. He in fact used to teach here, but retired to make way for Professor Snape. He might take some convincing of course, but I believe I have a way to do so without spending any gold whatsoever - in fact, you will likely be quite a bit better off than you were before you started, when all things are said and done. Any way, the man's name is Horace Slughorn, Harry. I believe he taught your mother..."

* * *

**Well, a lot of build up in that chapter, introductions to what Harry will be working on in his free time and such. Most importantly, it sets us up for the main point of divergence with Canon - Harry's role as the Founder's Apprentice. One of my gripes with Canon, is that of all the potential in the world to create magical communities and cultures and see different locations, the books remained mostly within a set few. I mean magical Egypt and South America, places in Africa, and Greece; all places with potential for different kinds of magic, creatures, people and adventure. yet really, almost the entire series is at Hogwarts. Even Britain itself, which has so many places with some really cool folklore and stories to exploit, barely gets a look in. **

**I chose Cornwall for the first, because I'm studying there at the moment, and so have a pretty intimate knowledge of a lot of folklore, and it's culture. I know that witchcraft was a big thing here, and is reflected massively in Cornish culture today. The actual folklore is great too; Pixies, fairies, giants, Cornish Knockers, Old Hags, evil witches, ancient burial sites - there's loads of cool stuff, and makes a pertty cool place for Harry to cut his teeth at, with regards to his magical adventuring.**

**The Summer will likely last another few Chapters. Harry will head out on his own for the first time in search of the keys he needs to access Helga's trial; he'll also find out exactly what the Potter family has left in terms of items and money - not much at all when you consider their former glory; and he'll (with the help of the ex-potions professor) take his first major step into re-building his family as a prominent one, by securing his first large financial windfall. **

**Also expect Ron and Hermione next chapter. They're both there for keeps; and while Hermione can keep up with Harry well enough, expect Ron to require a little more help from the other two at first. He will come into his own though, I fully intend to forge him into a character worth being allied to the House of Potter :p**

**Terms and Definitions:**

**A quick moment to define some terms that were not explained as of yet, and explain some spells and incantations that weren't explained in the chapter itself:  
**

**Quoits: **Quoits are essentially, Neolithic (4000 - 2500 BC broadly) period burial chamber tombs; and 'Quoit' is the Cornish term for such sites. There are a fair few in Cornwall, and are pretty significant archaeological sites. Theorised to also be ceremonial sites, or to have been built in areas that had a high ritual, religious or spiritual significance - hence being perfect as locations for magical objects.

Obviously, for almost all the spells I mentioned, they're fairly well known amongst the fandom (Leg-locker, body-bind, disarm, serpensortia, stunner etc). The one I will mention, is **_Flipendo_, or the Knock-back jinx**. It's a spell taught in Quirrell's first year class (if you can believe that) that can be used to physically repel an opponent. It's assumed that this was the spell that Lupin used on Harry silently at Grimauld Place after their argument in the final book.


End file.
